


Weekend at Tony's

by roe87



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Assassins & Hitmen, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Bickering, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Canon-Typical Violence, Caper Fic, Comedy, Comedy of Errors, Dark Comedy, Dorks Bucky and Sam, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Happy Ending, Humor, Intrigue, M/M, Mafia AU, Minor Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Minor Sharon Carter/Sam Wilson, Misunderstandings, Movie AU, Murder Mystery, On the Run, Thriller, Whodunnit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-07-29 09:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20079994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roe87/pseuds/roe87
Summary: Fun-loving office workers Sam and Bucky are invited by their boss, Tony, to stay the weekend at his beach house.Little do they know that Tony is the perpetrator of a fraud they've uncovered and is arranging to have them killed.When the plan backfires and Tony is killed instead, Sam and Bucky decide not to let a little death spoil their vacation. They pretend Tony is still alive, leading to hijinks galore.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> So, if you never saw [Weekend at Bernie's](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Weekend_at_Bernie%27s#Plot) you'll want to pay close attention to the tags and summary, and if you're a fan of Tony Stark then maybe don't read this, because I've put him in the baddie's role and he spends most of the story as a corpse.  
Yes, really. It's a trash movie but it's really funny.  
I can totally see Sam and Bucky as the bickering duo swept up in this outrageous Whodunnit.
> 
> Anyway! check the tags. 
> 
> Also, this was an '80s movie, and I've set the story in the '80s too BUT I have done my best to remove any out of date sexism or other crap that doesn't need to be in there. I've done my best to update it but still retain the original nonsense of the comedy. :D
> 
> Enjoy!!
> 
> ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't done already, please read the tags/summary.
> 
> Also a heads up for hints at drug misuse offscreen in this chapter.
> 
> ~

_New York, summer of 1988_

"Oh, man," Sam complained, stepping out onto the street and into the sweltering heat of New York City in late summer.

He undid the top two buttons of his shirt and headed off. He had to go meet Bucky at the intersection, and he rushed over to the partial shade of a building.

He needn't have bothered rushing, Bucky was late as usual. By the time Bucky strolled by, Sam was tapping his foot impatiently.

"Does this look like ten, or does this look like ten-thirty to you?" he called, tapping the watch at his wrist.

"Morning, Sam!" Bucky said, sunglasses on and his shirt a dishevelled mess.

"Good morning," Sam replied. "You're a half hour late."

"Only a half hour? I'm usually forty-five minutes late," Bucky mused. "I'm early today."

Sam sighed, and they headed off through the park.

"Call me old-fashioned, Sam," Bucky said wistfully, "but I just love the park on a Sunday."

"I would love it more if we didn't have to work today," Sam replied, watching a couple women whizz by on rollerskates. He sighed, annoyed that he didn't have the day off. "Come on, Bucky, let's go. We gotta get to work."

They exited the park and caught a bus to their office block, finally able to escape the hot air outside and step into... more hot air inside.

Sam groaned. "Why is it _so hot?_"

The security guard at the desk, Barton, chuckled at them. He was sitting in front of a desk fan. "Hot enough for you, guys?" he called.

"No, Barton," Bucky said dryly, "why don't you turn up the heat?"

"Okay. I'll tell the engineer," Barton replied, turning a page of his newspaper.

Sam and Bucky trudged their way over to the elevators.

"Cheap bastards," Bucky complained. "Turn off the air conditioning on the weekends."

They got into the elevator and Sam pressed the button for their floor. The office was virtually empty when they got in, only one cleaner wheeling a cart around.

Sam sat down at his desk and opened his briefcase. He wanted to get back to the policies he'd been going over last night. He'd almost cracked it, and then all the overtime he (and Bucky) had been doing lately could finally pay off.

Bucky sat in his chair and twirled himself around. "Let's go to the beach," he mused.

"No," Sam replied, organising his print outs.

"We're gonna be here our whole lives," Bucky moaned dramatically.

"Yeah, I'm afraid so," Sam said, mostly ignoring him. He leaned over to search inside a drawer for his pens, and was surprised when Bucky dived across his desk to grab his paperwork.

"Bucky––"

"I'm going to the beach!" Bucky declared, running through the empty office with Sam's work.

"Bucky! Give me those papers!"

"These papers are going to the beach!" Bucky called before disappearing out the door to the stairs.

Bucky leaned back on his deck chair, surveying the scene. "You think it's safe to go in the water?" he asked Sam.

"No, better not," Sam replied, sarcastic. "You just ate. You might get cramps."

"I'll risk it." Bucky stood up from his chair, and made to step over to the small inflatable pool. He skidded a bit in the hot tar of the roof: the sun was literally melting the building. Bucky's shoes got stuck in the tar so he slipped them off and splashed into the pool, falling over on his butt.

He sighed loudly, and looked over at Sam in the other deck chair, still working on those Goddamn papers.

The portable radio they'd stolen from the supply closet was on, tuned into the local radio station. _We'll get back to you with more tunes_, the DJ said, _but first we'll hear the latest from Weather Central. Sizzle, sizzle! As the Big Apple becomes the baked apple and continues before Labor Day weekend with the four H's: hot, humid, hazy, and horrible!_

"Oh, man," Sam complained, "will you shut that thing off?"

Bucky frowned, and leaned over to pick up the portable radio. It was also stuck to the roof from the melted tar, like being covered in black bubblegum.

Bucky switched it off and tossed it aside. He picked up the firehose that they'd dragged out, and aimed the nozzle into his inflatable pool.

It was a sad, sad scene.

"This sucks!" Bucky snapped. "I am so unhappy. We should be at a real beach!"

"There are no more real beaches," Sam replied calmly. "I mean, we could go to Jones Beach and float around in the hospital waste. Then again Coney Island is always real nice. We could go there and watch the fish disintegrate in front of our eyes."

"Shit," Bucky murmured. Sam was right, none of the beaches here were what he wanted either.

"Wait a minute," Sam said, reading his paperwork. "Hold the phone, buddy! I got it! I got the two million dollars. Where are your pages?"

"Um..." Bucky looked around for the policy paperwork he was supposed to be combing through.

"Get your pages," Sam told him, so Bucky had to drag himself out of his pool and go grab his papers. "Oh, my God, you are not going to believe what you see!" Sam said.

"Okay," Bucky said, holding his papers expectantly.

"Turn to page twenty-eight," Sam prompted.

"Got it," Bucky said, quickly scanning the page. "And?"

"I want you to turn to page forty-one now," Sam said.

"Forty-one," Bucky repeated, finding the right page. "Got it."

"Check out line eighteen." Sam was grinning like this was a big deal.

Bucky frowned and looked down at the outgoing payments listed, but he couldn't see anything wrong. "Okay?"

"Yeah, you see it?"

"I see it," Bucky confirmed. "What about it?"

Sam's smile faltered, then he rolled his eyes and got to his feet. "You're an idiot, and I'm gonna come explain it to you."

"Yeah, watch your step," Bucky said, smiling as Sam stepped on the melting roof and slipped around. "Take your shoes off."

Sam took his shoes off and hollered, "Ow! Hot, hot! I'm being barbecued here!" He jumped over to the inflatable pool and splashed down next to Bucky. "Okay. All right, buddy, I'm going to explain it to you real slow. There's more than one check issued on the same life insurance policy claim. One in December of '87, another in April of '88, and two more in June. Making any sense?"

"Yeah, he died four times!" Bucky scoffed.

"Yes," Sam said, pointing at the papers. "According to this, he died four times. So, somebody screwed up."

"It wasn't us..." Bucky looked at Sam in alarm. "Was it?"

"No," Sam said. "It wasn't us. Don't you see? Bucky, we just uncovered a two million dollar error. We're going to be heroes. We're going up the corporate ladder."

"Oh." Bucky's eyes went wide as he realised the implications. "This is good for me?"

"Yes, this is good for you," Sam said. "It's good for me, too."

"I'll tell Stark first thing in the morning!" Bucky declared. "What page is it?"

"No, Bucky, let me tell him."

"We'll both tell him," Bucky suggested.

"Alright."

~

Monday morning, Sam was on time for work, as usual, and miraculously so was Bucky.

They made their way to the office and filed into the building (air conditioned today) along with hundreds of other office workers.

Just up ahead of them in the lobby was that cute blonde that Sam had a secret crush on. She was heading to the elevators, skirt swishing around her knees and high heels clacking over the marble floor.

"There's what's-her-name," Bucky said, elbowing Sam's ribs none too subtly.

"Sharon," Sam said quietly, just as she looked over her shoulder at them like she knew they were checking her out.

Sam turned to Bucky, and saw him smiling his cheesy grin. "Stop staring at her," he hissed.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "You've not shut up about her for two months. Ask her out already, will you?"

"No," Sam said, mortified. "I don't know what to say."

"She's a summer intern," Bucky pointed out. "She'll be gone in a week."

"No, I've no idea what to say," Sam told him.

"Say, hi, I wanna go out with you."

"I can't say that!"

Bucky gave him a look. "Why not?"

"Because there's too many people around," Sam whispered.

"It's New York City!" Bucky said loudly. "There's always too many people around." He grabbed Sam's arm and yanked him forward while calling, "Excuse me, Miss!"

Just then the elevators opened and people surged forward. Sharon, Sam and Bucky were all swept up in the throng and Sam thanked God for intervening.

The elevator inside was cramped and quiet, as people steadfastly refused to make eye contact with each other and stared at the wall as they waited for their floor.

Except Bucky, who leaned into Sam's ear and hissed, "You gonna say something?"

"Shut up," Sam hissed back.

"You're blowing it," Bucky sing-songed.

"Shut...!" Sam blurted, then cleared his throat as people side-eyed them both. He pretended to adjust his collar as he twisted around to whisper at Bucky, "Please, shut up?"

Bucky pulled his exasperated face, and slung an arm around Sam's shoulders. Sam watched with horror as Bucky reached out to tap Sharon's right shoulder.

Sam leaned away to the left, and Sharon looked round but she probably couldn't see him. She looked over her other shoulder as Sam leaned the other way, and Bucky stood there smiling awkwardly.

Someone cleared their throat, and finally the elevator doors opened.

Sharon walked briskly away, and Sam exhaled in relief that he'd come out unscathed from the encounter.

Sort of.

"Thank you," he said sarcastically, as he and Bucky exited the elevator too.

Bucky shook his head. "You're hopeless. Try witty. Say, hey, you know what would look good on you...? Me!"

"Oh, please," Sam muttered, as they headed over to their desks.

"Sam, that is a very good line."

"Enough!" Sam told him. "Look, if I wanted to talk to her, I'll talk to her."

"You clearly want to, is all I'm saying," Bucky said, then pointed across the office floor. "Look, she's at the water fountain. Go talk to her already."

Sam sighed. "You want me to talk to her?"

"_Yes._"

"Okay." Sam looked over, seeing Sharon linger at the water fountain. He could do this. "Alright, I'll talk to her."

"Finally," Bucky said.

"Shut up," Sam hissed, and shooed him away as he edged his way over to Sharon. "Uh, excuse me?"

She turned around, blonde hair bouncing as she smiled.

"Uh," Sam stalled.

"Yes?" Sharon prompted.

"Uh... my aunt is very sick," Sam blurted.

Sharon blinked, then replied, "What?"

"Nothing," Sam choked out. He turned around and hurried away.

Bucky fell into step beside him. "Now, don't flagellate yourself over this, Sam. It was a very good first effort."

"Why did I just say that?" Sam huffed in disbelief. "Bucky, I don't even have an aunt!"

"So what?" Bucky said, unconcerned. "You'll do better next time. C'mon, let's go see Stark."

After Sam got over his humiliation with Sharon, he went with Bucky to Mr. Stark's private office.

The secretary told them to wait, and eventually Stark breezed in, wearing one of his designer suits and his customary aviator shades.

Sam got up, as did Bucky, and they tried to get his attention while the secretary gave Stark his messages.

"Excuse me, Mr. Stark," Sam tried.

"Sammy. Hank. How are you?" Stark said absently.

"Sam Wilson, sir," Sam corrected.

"James Barnes," Bucky chipped in.

"Well, whatever," Stark said, then asked his secretary, "There's nothing from Tiffany, Pamela, or Jenny?"

"No, sir," she said flatly.

"Well, that's their loss," Stark chuckled.

"Excuse us, Mr. Stark," Sam tried again. "There's something we would like to show you."

"Gentlemen, please." Stark put a finger to his lips. "Shh. It's Monday morning.

After lunch, alright? Quite a bit after lunch." He threw the peace sign at them before shutting himself up in his office.

"Guess we'll try after lunch?" Bucky said, before the secretary threw them out.

Sam and Bucky's lunch consisted of five dollar hotdogs from a hotdog stand on the street, while Bucky waxed lyrical about the expensive cars he'd seen Stark driving and where he probably went for lunch.

"Do you know how much it costs to park a car in Manhattan every month?" Bucky said, mouth full of corndog. "More than my rent!"

"Well, it's only fair," Sam replied, squeezing mustard onto his hotdog. "Most cars are bigger than your apartment."

"So my apartment is small." Bucky shrugged. "It's dark. It's hot. It's in a high-crime area... but it beats living at home with Mom and Dad."

"All right. Enough," Sam told him. "It's just until I can afford something decent. Something without wall to wall cockroaches."

He and Bucky shared a look.

"I don't have wall to wall cockroaches," he said indignantly.

"Anyway," Sam went on, "all I have to do is just keep setting my goals and working hard... I'll be fine."

Bucky shook his head. "You are so naive."

They bickered about it all the way back to the office, and all the way up in the elevator as they finished their dogs.

As they got off the elevator, someone almost walked into Sam and he side-stepped to avoid them.

It was Sharon, and she side-stepped the same way so they ended up doing a little dance.

"Sorry," Sam said, flustered.

"I'm sorry," she laughed. "Excuse me."

"Go ahead." He held up his hands and stayed still, letting her pass.

"Thanks," she said, and got into the elevator. As Sam walked away Sharon called out, "I hope your aunt feels better!"

Sam froze, and turned round to stare. "What?"

"I said––"

"She said, I hope your aunt feels better," Bucky cut in.

"My aunt? The sick aunt," Sam said, catching on. "Yes, she's fine." He hurried back to the elevator, trying to talk to Sharon now he had the nerve.

The doors tried to ping closed as he stood in the way, and some guy inside complained, "Look, Mack, either get on the elevator or get off."

Sam was too busy, but Bucky shoved him inside with one hand and the doors closed.

"I'll be back!" Sam called between the crack.

~

Bucky furiously rubbed at a scratch card on his desk, only to reveal no prizes. "And, I lose again," he declared, tossing the card away.

Sam rolled up to him in his chair, grinning from ear to ear. "I won. Buck, I have a date."

Bucky blinked at him in shock. "You're kidding?"

"Nope. Sharon and I, Thursday night, dinner." He held up his hand and Bucky high fived him.

"Yes! At last."

"It was the clumsy approach," Sam said, nodding slowly. "It worked."

Bucky nodded too, and gave Sam a knowing look. "You're gonna want to borrow my apartment."

"No," Sam said quickly. "But, thank you. That's sweet. But I can't do that to you."

He rolled back to his desk, so Bucky rolled after him.

"If she finds out you live with your folks, you'll embarrass yourself."

"Yeah, I know, but I can't do that to you," Sam insisted.

Bucky sighed. "It's the cockroaches, isn't it?"

"Well..."

"Look, they scatter when the lights go on!"

Sam gave him a flat look, but then the Comm at Sam's desk buzzed.

_"Mr. Wilson, Mr. Stark will see you now."_

Sam broke into a grin, and Bucky got up to grab his papers.

"I feel lucky!" he sang.

They were shown into Mr. Stark's office.

Everything looked expensive, and Stark himself was standing next to his enormous desk by the window, currently on the phone.

"No, I only want the Maserati if it comes in jet black," he yelled. "Look, if you can't do it for me I'll just have to take my business to another dealer."

Sam and Bucky shared a look, and edged their way closer to the desk, paperwork clutched in hand.

"So paint it!" Stark went on. "I mean how hard can this whole thing be? Right.

All right. See, that's better. See how easy it is to do business with me?" He motioned for Sam and Bucky to take a seat as he finished up his call. "No trade. Strictly cash. Right. Good." He ended the call and breathed in before looking at Sam and Bucky. "Gentlemen, what have you got for me?"

This was it.

Sam had been preparing for this meeting since yesterday. "Well," he started, "as you may or may not know, Mr. Stark, Barnes and I have been..."

Stark strolled away, and Sam trailed off. He watched in confusion as Stark walked across the office and shut himself in another room. Maybe a bathroom?

"Where's he going?" Sam whispered to Bucky.

"I don't know," Bucky whispered back.

"What are we supposed to do?" Sam wondered aloud, as they waited for Stark to return.

Bucky was busy peering at Stark's desk, and picked up a framed photo. "Look at that," he said, showing it to Sam. "Bet that thing moves, huh?"

It was a photo of Stark in a speedboat on the water, smiling and standing next to a couple women in tiny bikinis and a buff blond guy in tight swimshorts.

Sam hissed, "Put that back."

Stark entered the room again and Bucky hastily replaced the photo. They turned in their chairs to watch as Stark came closer, rubbing his nose and sniffing.

Sam side-eyed Bucky, and he side-eyed right back.

"Uh. You gentlemen were saying...?" Stark prompted, as he walked back around his desk.

"Yes, uh," Sam said, and cleared his throat. "As you may have heard, Barnes and I have been reprogramming the accounts on the new computer system."

"Great," Stark said, sounding disinterested. He sat down and blinked blearily.

"Sir, it's a very big job," Bucky pitched in.

"A big job," Sam agreed. "We have been working hard. Weekends also."

"Weekends, late nights," Bucky explained. "Why don't you show him, Sam?"

"Yeah, we've got something you should know about," Sam said, offering the paperwork.

He passed the papers across the desk, and Stark reluctantly picked them up.

"Pages twenty-eight and forty-one," Sam told him.

Stark had a quick scan, then gave Sam a flat look. "You sure these figures are accurate?

"Yes. Positive."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Stark," Bucky chimed in.

Stark got up from his desk, walking closer until he smiled down at Sam and Bucky.

"Tony."

Sam wasn't sure what to say, and looked to Bucky but he looked just as confused.

"Call me Tony," Stark elaborated. "I mean my father is Mr. Stark, right?"

He chuckled, and Bucky burst out into his fake laugh, slapping Sam's arm as he did.

Sam caught on and laughed too.

This wasn't awkward at all.

"Okay, Tony," he said. "Yes, well, it's all there in black and white."

"Hm." Tony looked over the papers again, then pointed to one page. "No, you're wrong. Look. There are multiple checks issued because there were several policies written. You guys didn't take into consideration that it's _normal_," he started to yell, "especially when using a fluctuating index to combine a package containing short-term and straight life policies in an insurance portfolio." He tossed the papers onto the desk, shaking his head. "You're _wasting_ my time."

"Sam worked on that part, sir," Bucky said quietly.

"Uh, yes," Sam said, nerves spiking but, dammit, he knew he was right. "That is true, sir. But if you were to look at the back page where the policy indexes are, you'll notice that the remaining policies are dated _after_ the policy holder died."

There was a moment of tense quiet, and Sam felt sure that he and Bucky were about to be thrown out of Stark's office.

But then he picked up the papers again and looked closer. This time when he spoke to Sam and Bucky, he sighed deeply.

"You're right. You are absolutely right." He smiled at them. "Gentlemen, this is good work. Very, very good work."

"Thank you, sir," Sam said. "You know, I hate to say this, but it appears

as if somebody is trying to defraud the company."

"Mmm." Tony nodded slowly, eyeing them both. "Gentlemen, how long have you two been working here?"

"Two years, six months and a week," Sam recited.

"I'm not really sure," Bucky piped up. "A little longer, I think."

"Longer?" Sam frowned at him. "I was here before you."

"No, Sam. I trained you."

"I came here in the January," Sam argued, "you came the end of May. I trained _you_."

"Whatever," Tony cut in. "What I'm saying is that I think there is a big future here for a couple of bright fellows like yourselves."

"Thank you!" Sam said.

God, this was it. This was his big break.

"I'd like to go over these numbers with you," Tony said. "Just to make sure

that you've gotten everything. The only trouble is if someone is trying to,

like you said, defraud the company, I'd like to keep it confidential." He ushered them out of their seats, an arm around each other their shoulders as he led them out of the office. "I mean there's no sense sending up a bunch of red flags, is there?"

"No, absolutely not," Sam agreed. "If you'd like, we'll work late."

"Yes!" Bucky agreed. "We'll work weekends. Weekends are very good for me."

"Weekends." Tony paused, nodded. "Good idea. Give us plenty of time together, no distractions. It is Labor Day." He looked at them with a big grin. "I got an idea. How would you two like to come to my house at the beach?"

Bucky went quiet, eye wide in surprise. Sam choked out, "Us?"

"Yeah. Hampton Island. Ever been there?"

Sam shook his head, as did Bucky.

"Well, you'll love it!" Tony declared. "When we're not working there are distractions. Women, swimming, boating, famous people. Sound good?"

Sam could only nod, but Bucky enthusiastically said, "Love to!"

"Good! It's settled," Tony said. "We're going to have a good time, I guarantee. My secretary will write down the directions, give you the ferry schedule."

"Ferry schedule?" Sam asked.

"It's the only way to get there," Tony laughed. "Unless you have a boat?"

Sam shook his head in awe.

"Okay, so take the ferry," Tony told him. "You both come out Friday night, you'll have a great time. I'll even take you back to the city myself on Monday. Okay?"

"We don't know what to say, Tony," Sam told him.

"Hey. You don't have to say anything." Tony patted them on their shoulders again. "If you two uncovered what I think you uncovered, then I owe you both a great deal. I mean it sincerely. Now get out of here. Go on." He shooed them off with a grin.

Sam followed Bucky out the door and in a daze they headed over to the secretary's desk.

"He loves us," Bucky whispered, leaning into Sam. "The man absolutely _loves_ us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Did you spot the hint of Steve in this chapter?)


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up for a teeny bit of lying by omission on a date, in this chapter, but it's kind of a running theme in this story especially later once the Whodunnit starts up. 
> 
> ~

"You have to kill them, Nick," Tony said.

Nick Fury stopped eating his dinner and looked up slowly.

The rest of the table fell silent as their boss slowly pulled out his napkin and wiped delicately at his mouth.

"Let me explain something to you, Stark," Fury said calmly. "We don't do that anymore. We're a corporation now. We do investments." He picked up his wine glass and took a sip. "Real estate," he went on. "Car rentals. Parking lots."

"Parking lots." Tony nodded. "That's good. I understand that, but––"

"Didn't I order a dry wine?" Fury cut in, glaring at his glass.

"Yes, you did," Coulson, his right hand man answered.

"Taste that." He thrust the glass under Coulson's nose. "Does that taste like a dry white wine to you?"

Coulson had a sip, then replied, "This is a medium."

Fury sighed in irritation, as tension fell over the table once more.

"Should we go and talk to the server?" Coulson offered.

Fury shook his head. "Just go order me the right bottle. I want a dry white wine."

Coulson got up from the table, and Tony tried to get Fury's attention again. "Nick," he said, "I know how important dinner is to you, but I mean... But we've got a problem here."

"Tony." Fury smiled coldly at him. "I give problems. I don't _get_ problems."

"Yes, but, be that as it may..."

He held up a hand to silence him. "So, how do you propose to handle it?"

Tony took a breath, and made the pitch. "Let's make it a murder suicide job. All right? I'll plant some money, fake a note, they can take the rap and I won't even have to change the books." He laughed, nervous. A single drop of sweat rolled down his temple. He swallowed as Fury looked at him, not giving anything away. "What do you think?"

Fury didn't answer, but he looked over to Maria Hill, who shrugged in reply.

"I like it. It's creative."

Next, Fury looked to Natasha Romanov.

"I'm a little rusty." Natasha shrugged one shoulder. "It'll come back to me."

"Okay," Fury said. "Do it."

Tony was relieved, the tension draining out of his body.

Thank God, he thought. His ass was saved.

"This is great," he said, unable to stop himself from smiling. "I mean this is really good. Good, good, good. I think we are going to have some fun." He bit his lip to stop himself from babbling. "I have to get going. I really do."

"What, no dessert?" Fury asked, as Tony stood to go. "They do a wonderful flan here."

"No, I really must be going," Tony said. "Thanks for dinner, Nick." He hurried away from the table.

He had plans to make.

After Tony had left, and Nick finally got a glass of dry white wine, he took a thoughtful sip.

"Everything okay, boss?" Natasha asked.

Fury looked at her. "Forget the accident with the two guys. Take care of Stark. He's getting too careless. Too greedy."

Everyone else around the table nodded and murmured in agreement.

"How do you want me to do it?" Natasha asked quietly.

Nick hummed in thought, then told her, "Make it look like an accident."

~

"So, that was a nice dinner, right?" Sam asked, as he and Sharon left the restaurant.

"It was!" Sharon agreed, having to raise her voice as a street cleaner made its way down the road. "I am glad you finally asked me out."

"You are?" Sam shouted back.

"I wish you'd asked me out sooner!" Sharon told him. "Today was my last day at work. I'm going back to studying."

"Oh." Sam deflated at that. "We could still have this weekend together, right?"

"I'm spending it with my folks!" Sharon had to yell, as the street cleaner followed them down the side walk.

"Are your folks in town?"

She shook her head and gave him an apologetic smile.

Well, that sucked, Sam thought.

The street cleaner rumbled by, and Sam had to laugh at it.

"Well!" he yelled over the noise. "Is this the intimate evening I promised you, or what? You think there's anywhere we could go to just sit and talk, and not have to scream and get run over by garbage trucks?"

Sharon laughed good-naturedly. "I'd invite you to my apartment, but I have five roommates," she said, holding up her hand to indicate five. "And they're all at home doing their hair right now."

Sam baulked. "That's a lot of hair. But, sounds clean. I like that."

"It's either that or living with my parents," Sharon said, "and I don't think that's a good idea."

"I can't blame you," Sam found himself saying. "Who'd want to live with their folks?"

"Do you have any roommates?" she asked.

"No. Roommates? No. None."

"Why don't we go to your place?"

Sam opened his mouth to answer but found he couldn't come up with a good enough excuse not to.

"Alright!" he agreed.

He took Sharon back to his (parent's) apartment building, and let them into his (parent's) apartment.

After closing the door very gently, Sam walked as carefully as he could across the floor toward the lamp.

"Why are you tiptoeing?" Sharon asked.

Sam froze, and tried to think of a good reason.

"Uh, because," he whispered, "the people who live downstairs... they're very light sleepers. They get angry when I walk."

"Why are you whispering?" Sharon whispered, clearly confused.

"Am I?" Sam whispered, as he switched on the lamp.

"Yes," Sharon hissed.

"I am," Sam whispered. "That's because of... the walls. They're too thin." He gestured around at the lounge. "Make yourself at home."

"Thank you." Sharon smiled, then had a nose at the furnishing.

Sam went to the mini bar for some glasses, and his father's best bourbon.

"Wow, look at this teak," Sharon murmured, brushing a hand over the side board. "I mean this whole apartment. Sort of '60s style?"

"Yeah, I know," Sam said, panicking. "I've been meaning to redo that for years."

"No, I love it," Sharon insisted. "I think you've done the place beautifully."

Sam beamed. "Well, I like it. It's home."

He took the glasses of bourbon over to the couch, and gestured for Sharon to sit first.

"You know, it's a side of you I never would have expected," she said, leaning back on the couch. "I'm very impressed."

"You are?" Sam was both surprised and confused. "About what?"

"This apartment has got to be expensive," she explained, "so obviously you could have taken me to some flash restaurant instead of that... um..."

"Is _dump_ the word you're groping for?" Sam grinned.

Sharon laughed, which was indication enough.

"It's a four-star dive," Sam defended.

"It was great. I loved it," she said. "Really. It's just that some men would try to impress women by pretending to be something they're not."

Sam swallowed at that. "I absolutely agree," he found himself saying. "That's a terrible way to begin a relationship. Pretending to be something you're not."

Oh, God. How could he unravel this?

Then Sharon placed her hand onto Sam's, entwining their fingers. Sam looked at her in surprise, and she smiled at him.

"I like you," she said, shy and sweet.

Sam smiled back at her. "I like you, too."

She leaned in, and he leaned in, and just before their lips touched Sharon pulled back and grabbed at Sam's shoulder in alarm.

"Sam," she hissed, "there's a man _in his underwear_ in your kitchen."

"Huh?" Sam looked over, and winced at the sight of his dad rummaging through the refrigerator.

Why, God. Why.

"Uh..." Sam murmured, unsure what to say or how to explain this. "Don't worry, he'll go away soon..."

His dad meanwhile had found what he wanted, and was about to stroll into the lounge.

This just got worse, Sam thought, as his dad switched on the main light then blinked blearily at the two of them on the couch.

"Oh," he said gruffly, "sorry, Junior. I didn't realize you had company. Good evening, young lady." He smiled knowingly at Sharon before switching off the light again, and stumbling back to his bedroom.

Sam wanted to melt into the couch from embarrassment.

Sharon extracted her hand from Sam's and shifted round to look at him. "So. I take it that was your father?"

"Um..." Sam winced. "Yeah, sorry. Sorry you had to see that."

Sharon sighed lightly. "I think I better go." She got up to leave, and Sam followed her, apologising all the way to the door.

Sharon gave him a tight smile. "Goodbye, Sam."

~

Tony Stark drove his favorite speedboat out to Hampton Island late afternoon while the sun was still high and hot in the sky.

He had shit to do today.

Steering the boat into the mariner, one of the young workers there met him on the pier and began tying up his boat.

"Nice to see you, Mr. Stark," the boy said.

Tony stepped onto the pier and pulled a few notes out from his wallet. "Here you go, kid," he said, tucking the notes inside the boy's shirt pocket. "Buy yourself a girlfriend."

Tony adjusted his aviators and strolled off down the pier. "I sure love being me," he murmured to himself, smiling.

At the end of the pier Tony took one of the rental golf buggies and drove himself on the private roads to the beach and residential condos.

When he got to his house and parked the buggy, he spotted that good for nothing Peter Quill camped out underneath the decking on the sand.

"What are you doing here?" Tony shouted, approaching Quill. "I fired you last week."

Quill scrambled to get up. "I just want my ninety dollars, okay?"

"Bullshit!" Tony spat. "You drank my liquor and the toilets still don't work." He went to kick Quill on his ass. "Get out of here!"

Quill dodged his kick, but slipped on the sand and Tony went to kick him again, his foot connecting with ass this time. "You come back again, I'm calling the cops!" Tony yelled at him, chasing him off his property.

"You asshole!" Quill yelled back, taking off at a run. "I want my ninety dollars!"

Tony exhaled angrily as he watched Quill run off, then he headed up to the ramp to his house.

The landline started to ring, and Tony broke into a run to catch the call. As he entered the lobby he tripped over a watering can, spilling water everywhere.

Stephen Strange, the idiot caretaker was standing nearby in his overalls and holding a large gardening knife.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark," he said, gesturing at Tony's large yucca plant. "I think she needs a little B-12. I'll be out of your hair in a few minute..."

"Ugh, whatever," Tony muttered, shaking the water off his shoes and running through the house to his office.

The answering machine had picked up the call and his recorded message was already playing:_ This is Tony. Leave a message, I'll get right back to you._

"Shit," Tony hissed, rushing over to his desk and hitting the buttons on his machine. "Hello?" he said, picking up the phone. "Hello, whoever you are, I'm here."

"Stark," a woman's voice said calmly. "It's Natasha. I just got to the island."

"You're early," Tony said in surprise. "Those two little schmucks aren't coming until the six o' clock ferry and I still have to plant the note."

"Mm hmm," Natasha replied. "So, where's your house?"

"It's on the point, top of the dune. Look, Natasha," Tony lowered his voice, "don't kill them while I am around."

"_Tony_," Natasha said sternly, "we're on the phone."

"Right. You're right. Okay, I'm sorry." Tony rubbed his free hand down his face, feeling the stress. "The point is, I just want to be back in New York with an alibi, okay?"

"Don't worry about that," Natasha said cooly, then ended the call.


	3. Three

End of the working day on Friday, Sam and Bucky changed out of their suits and into casual clothes in the restroom, then met out in the hallway clutching their overnight bags.

Sam blinked at Bucky's garish floral shirt. "Okay," he muttered, as Bucky grinned back at him.

"Ready?" Bucky asked, near bouncing on the spot.

"Yeah." Sam checked in his bag once more to make sure he had everything. "Let's go."

They had to get the train across town, and after exiting the station they had to find their way to the right dock where the boats were.

When they found the jetty for the Hampton Island boat, it looked like one was already there.

"Oh, no!" Bucky gasped. "Sam, it's leaving! I told you we should've taken a cab from the station."

Sam shrugged. "There's another boat in a half hour," he pointed out.

"We'll miss the best parties!" Bucky took off at a run, dodging other people along the wooden pier. "Excuse me! Sorry! Coming through!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Sam called after him, and had to run to catch up. "Bucky, what are you doing!"

Bucky was sprinting along the pier, not slowing down as he approached the boat. There was no gangplank in sight, and the boat was at least a couple feet away from the pier.

"We are _not_ jumping on this boat!" Sam shouted to Bucky as he ran after him. "Do you hear me?"

"Here we go!" Bucky called out, vaulting off the end of the pier.

"Listen to me, Bucky, we are not jumping on this boat!" Sam shouted, but Bucky had already landed on the deck of the boat so Sam... jumped too.

He landed roughly on deck and half on top of Bucky. He banged his elbow too.

"Ow, my elbow!" Sam complained, picking himself up.

"See, piece of cake!" Bucky patted Sam on the back, grinning as they both stood up, dusted themselves off and looked around.

The people on the deck were looking at them like they'd lost their minds. Sam noticed they were all holding their bags and jackets too.

The boat let off a soft honk, and began moving closer to the pier as a gangplank was laid down for passengers.

"Uh," Sam said, feeling embarrassed. "Bucky, this ferry isn't leaving. It's docking."

Bucky looked around as the other passengers started queuing to leave the boat. "Oh, great!" he laughed. "We're early!"

"You idiot," Sam muttered.

"Lighten up, Sam!" Bucky told him, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

"I can't," Sam sighed. "I made a fool out of myself last night. I totally blew it."

"Of course you did," Bucky replied, leading him over to a seat on the open top deck. He encouraged Sam to sit down.

"I should've stayed home," Sam said.

"What?" Bucky looked genuinely shocked. "What're you _talking_ about? We've been summoned to the mountain top, man. This is good for your career."

Sam hummed. "I guess."

Bucky took off his sunglasses and looked at him. "You know, by the time this weekend is over, I promise you won't even remember... what's-her-name's name."

Sam gave him a look. "Sharon."

Bucky just waved his hand. "I'll get you a drink. Come on, stop moping. This is going to be the best weekend we've ever had."

~

Tony Stark hit print on his computer, and grabbed the print out to read as soon as it rolled out.

He read it over, biting his lip to check all was in order, and he couldn't help snickering to himself at the genius of it all.

Tony quickly put it into the briefcase, and stashed it under his desk. He got up from his chair and turned around, a thousand things whirring through his mind, but he got a shock when he saw somebody standing right there in front of him.

Tony let out a yelp of surprise before he could stop himself. Natasha Romanov, the redheaded associate of Nick Fury's, stared coolly back at him.

Tony placed both hands on his desk to steady himself, heart beating fast. He laughed nervously. "I, uh... I didn't hear you come in."

"I know," Natasha replied, regarding him in that quiet way of hers. "I'm real good at that."

Tony nodded, and swiped a hand over his face. "Phew. Uh... I told you the guys aren't here yet, didn't I?"

"You did," she replied, watching him.

"Uh, good. Okay." Tony looked away from her, feeling nervous. He hoped she wasn't planning to hang around. He had to get back to New York.

"Quite a place you have here," Natasha said conversationally.

Tony nodded. "Yeah, it's home."

"Can I have a cigarette?" Natasha asked.

"Hm?" Tony looked at her in surprise.

She nodded across his desk, presumably having spotted the box of imports Tony had there. "Cigarette," she repeated.

Tony couldn't exactly say no to her, and he plastered on a smile. "Sure." He turned around to fetch her a damn cigarette.

Then he felt a sharp prick in his leg, and turned back to her in surprise. Natasha was closer to him now, watching him like a hawk.

"What was..." He looked down, seeing that she was sticking a syringe into the back of his thigh. Tony felt giddy all of a sudden, and Natasha guided him to sit down in his chair before he fell.

Natasha removed the syringe and placed it, and a small bag of heroin, into Tony's jacket pocket.

"Quite a ride, hm?" she said, checking his pulse.

He was dead.

Natasha adjusted the tinted sunglasses on Tony's face, so he looked as though he was simply lounging in his chair. Then she took of her jacket and turned it inside out, to change the color.

She pulled on a short blonde wig and unfolded a sunhat to place on her head before leaving the house.

Job done, she thought.

~

"Glorious day out, or what?" Bucky announced as they came off their boat onto Hampton Island.

It was sunny and warm, without a cloud in sight. Tourists were everywhere, flocking in and out from the ferries.

Sam looked around, trying to spot their host among all the people. "Where's Tony?"

"Don't worry, we have his address," Bucky said, getting out the slip of paper. "I got it right here. It says it's the last house on the point, top o' the dune." Bucky tried to get the attention of a passing tourist headed to the boat. "Pardon me, hello, ma'am? Could you tell me where the top of the dune is?"

The woman, blonde and wearing a sunhat, looked between them both then flashed a brief smile.

"Sorry, boys," she said, before hurrying away.

"Uh, okay," Bucky said, and looked around for someone else to ask next.

Everyone was either hurrying onto the boat, or away from it.

Sam began to feel stressed, and huffed in annoyance.

"Look, we'll find it. Okay," Bucky said, reassuring him. "You know it's an island, right? How hard can it be?"

"Yeah, I guess," Sam said, as they set off together.

It was strange Tony hadn't come to meet them, though.

They found their way to the right area of beach, and walked along boardwalks and then fine golden sand, passing by incredible house after incredible house.

"Look at this architecture," Sam marvelled, as they approached another house and saw the top of it over the sand dune.

They had to cross a patch of beach to get to it, and passed by a life guard sitting up in his chair.

"Yo, is this Tony Stark's house?" Bucky called up to him.

The young man nodded at them lazily. "Sure is."

"Wow," Bucky breathed, glancing at Sam.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, feeling nervous but in a good way now. He looked to Bucky, and they shared a smile.

"C'mon!" Bucky said excitedly, and they made their way over there.

This house was clearly very modern and grand, raised up like the other houses on the beach with its own decking that went out right onto the sand.

Sam and Bucky walked up the first entrance they could find, and onto the front of the property.

"Holy shit. Look at this," Bucky was saying, hurrying ahead. "Come on, Sam. Oh, my God. He's got a pool."

Sam followed him, looking around at the modern lounging area with sunbeds, potted plants, and a swimming pool at the center.

"He has a goddamn pool at the beach," Bucky said, bending down next to it and sticking his hand in the water. "It's heated! I love this man."

Sam smiled, and turned back around to look at the beach. The sun was low in the sky, glinting off the sea. "This is inspiring. Look at this view!"

"I am getting laid," Bucky said in wonder. "Sure beats Coney Island, huh?"

Sam snorted a laugh. "Yeah."

They approached the house via a huge glass sliding door, which was open already with the drapes blowing in the breeze.

Sam paused before entering. "What? Should we just walk in?"

"No, we'll stand out here all weekend," Bucky quipped. "Come on, we're houseguests." He breezed through the entrance, calling out, "Hello! Tony, we're here."

Sam followed him in, and they looked round in awe at the incredible home and its expensive furnishings.

"Amazing," Sam murmured.

"I'm home," Bucky said dramatically, dropping his bag to the floor. "Admit it, Sam, you're glad you came."

"Okay, I admit it." Sam smiled.

"We got three days of this ahead of us," Bucky pointed out, strolling through the house. "Oh, yeah. Shit, look at it all. I mean, a place like this must go for what, one point how many million, unfurnished?"

Sam wasn't listening, he was busy gazing up at the walls and the art hanging there. "Good God! That's a Lichtenstein!" he exclaimed.

"What? Where?" Bucky asked, turning to the largest object in the room, a grand piano.

"Not that," Sam said, pointing up at the wall. "The painting. It's an original."

"Oh. Of course it is!" Bucky laughed, wandering over to a leather couch.

"See, Bucky, all this," Sam gestured around them, "all of this could be yours, if you set your goals and work hard."

Bucky snorted, flopping down onto the couch and kicking his feet up. "My old man worked hard, all they did was give him more work."

Sam opened his mouth to argue that, when he heard a deep voice calling out, "Tony?"

Sam turned to where the voice came from, the open door they'd just entered themselves: a big white dude in tiny Speedos, with blond hair and muscles for days, strolled casually into the house.

"Tony?" he called out, then spotted Sam. He smiled brightly, seeming friendly. "Hey, is Tony around?"

"No, haven't seen him," Sam said, as the blond strutted off like he knew where he was going. "But we just got here."

Bucky quickly scrambled up from the couch, his jaw wide open as he stared after the blond. "Hello," he said, voice several octaves lower than normal.

Sam gave him a side long glance, and smirked at the look of wide eyed awe on Bucky's face.

"We're gonna be here all weekend," Bucky announced. "We're Tony's houseguests."

"Well, tell him that Steve borrowed his boat to go skiing," the blond said, grabbing some keys from a shelf on the wall, and giving them a winning smile.

"Hi, Steve," Bucky said, voice cracking slightly. "I'm bisexual."

Sam wanted to cover his face with his hands from secondhand embarrassment, but surprisingly the Steve guy stopped in front of Bucky and gave him a flirty smile.

"Oh, hi," he replied, looking Bucky in the eyes and pressing close to him. "Look, don't forget to tell Tony, okay?"

"Okay," Bucky choked out, obviously about to self combust.

Steve winked at him before strutting off again.

"Uh, Steve," Sam said, "you wouldn't happen to know where Tony is, would you?"

"He's probably making the rounds," Steve said, pausing before heading to the door. "Everybody parties from house to house, but they always end up here. 'Bye!" He waved as he left, disappearing from view.

Sam looked at Bucky and smirked at him. "You can put your tongue away now, Buck."

Bucky made a small, helpless noise, and Sam snorted a laugh.

"You're more hopeless than I am," he told Bucky, and went up to pat his shoulder. "Let's go look around while we wait for Tony."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and (nice!) comments fuel me!
> 
> I am on [tumblr](http://jro616.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/jro616).


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